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- text
- THE
RAPE OF
LVCRECE.
"
Nor
lliall
he
^nile
at
thee
in
fecret
thoughr,
Nor
laugh
wuhhisconipanionsatihy
Rate,
But
thou
&alt
know
ihy
intreft
was nor
bought
Bafcly
with
gold,
urn
ftolnc
from
foorth
thy gate.
For
me
J
am
the
miftrclTe
of
my
fate,
And
with
my
trcfpafTencuer
will
difpence,
-T
ill
life
to
death acquit
my
forft
offence.
I
will
not
poy
Ton
thee
with
my
attaint,
Nor
fold
my
fault in
cleanly
coin'd
excufcs.
My
fable
ground
of
finne
I will
not
paint.
To
hide
the truth of
this falfe
nights abufes.
My
tongue
iliall
vtter
all^mine
eyes
like
(luces,
v^
As from
a
mountaine
fpringthat
feeds a
dale,
B
Shal
guih pure ftreams
to
purge
my
impure
tale.
By
this
lamenting Philomele
had
endedThe
well-
tun'd
warble
of her
nightly
forrow,
And folemne
night
with (low
fad
gate
defcendedTo
ouglie
Hell,
when
loc the
blulhing
morrow
Lends
lightto
all
faire
eyes
that
light
will
borrow.
Butcloudie LvcRECEfh^mesherfelfetofee, .
And therefore ftill in night would cloiftred be.
Rcucaling
11. 1065— 1085
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